


Memory Corruption

by alchemicalTyphoon



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Heavy Angst, Nonbinary Apprentice (The Arcana), Nonbinary Character, Original Character Death(s), Other, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicalTyphoon/pseuds/alchemicalTyphoon
Summary: You dream of them. Often. But they've been gone for so long, details are slipping your mind; the same way their dream self is slipping your grasp.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Kudos: 22





	Memory Corruption

**Author's Note:**

> Asra Angst? Yep! Here we go again! 👉😏👉

He'd woken up, sweaty, heart racing like the times he'd seen them take leaps across buildings they shouldn't have been able to clear. His hands, he stares at them. The moonlight assures him they are clean; not a trace of ash, sand, or blood. Meticulously cleaned, ever since he got back from the beach. Despite this assurance, he was still breathing heavy, his heart still racing. He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears, and how he'd already lost before his vision went dark, gravity painting two lines down his face. Faust had woken with him, and coiled around his neck, squeezing him in concern. " _Worst dream?"_ She flicked her tongue at him, trying her best to console him.

_'Worst dream?'_ Asra nodded. It was the worst indeed.

His nightmares always started off nice, with a memory. This time, he dreamed about when he'd first told them he loved them. It was one of many cherished memories of his. They had come back home after a torrential downpour; he was half-afraid they'd lost their footing due to slipping off the roof or something. But after waiting somewhat anxiously, making sure the bathwater stayed hot and toasty as per their request, there had been a knocking on the bedroom window. He'd opened the way for them and they'd slunk in, soaked to the bone, and shaking with spend energy. In the dimly lit room, their eyes were alight with wonder.

He had wrapped them in a warm towel, drinking in the joy they were radiating from this small gesture. Only... their irises had briefly changed a different colour, and then returned to a colour close to what he knew they should be, but a shade off. They didn't give him time to register it properly, leaving the slight unease to settle like one of their gifted trinkets he couldn't look at any longer. He'd watched as they walked to their waiting bath. And he could swear their walk was just... too light... Like there was no substance, no weight to their presence. Not like the mounting weight of unease settling down on him, one trinket at a time.

They talked to him, but it was hard to hear what they were saying. Identical to his memory, he'd taken a seat behind them in the bath. When he finally got them to relax against his chest, they stayed cold, despite his magic keeping the heat in the water. He'd wrapped his arms around them, even as the icy fingers of fear stroked his spine. They'd wrapped his arms around them tighter, but they felt so much smaller than he remembered. His arms seemed to clip right through them even though he could see they weren't.

"I love you, you know", he'd said softly, breathing in their scent, mingled with soaps and oils they loved. He'd felt their warm, wet skin under his lips, beneath his hands. But where his chest made contact, they were so, so cold, and he started to fear what would come next. They murmured something, but he couldn't hear them over the soft dripping of the leaky faucet. "What did you say, darling?" He felt them slide away, slipping through his grasp, sinking in the bath water, his arms not responding in time. And when they worked again, they were gone, the water was gone, and all he had was a skull, sand, and ash in bloodied hands...

Asra got up and walked to the large set of drawers. He kneeled, and opened the middle one, taking out the red, woolen scarf they'd always worn, the one he'd accidentally grabbed instead of his own. It still felt as soft as it did the day he left. He placed it against his cheek, brushing his nose past it, and inhaled. Their scent was fading, only kept faintly alive by the other articles of clothing lending their scent to it. He already dreaded the day he'd open that drawer, and it would be gone. Like _they_ were gone. He inhaled a few more times, trying to commit their scent to his memories.

Faust plopped herself in the drawer, coiling her body around the small box he'd once decorated with their finds. It used to contain physical tokens of his love for them. Now it only housed their regret and longing for him; a potent reminder for him to stay focused on his end goal, other people be damned.

" _Find friend?"_ The snake wiggled anxiously around the box.

_'Friend?'._.. No... Asra whispered their name quietly to himself. No... Not _just_ a friend; _more_ than a friend. Lover. Beloved. His other half. His soulmate. His home. His! HIS!... _His heart_... and... _gone_...

But not for long.

No.

He'd get them back soon. He _had_ to.

Before he forgot more. Before he forgot everything. Before he'd let them _truly_ die.

_'Find friend?'  
_

"Yes. Soon. Tomorrow", he said.

Asra coaxed Faust out of the drawer, set the scarf back, and closed the drawer. He walked to the tall dresser, his hand feeling the rich fabric of his Masquerade costume. The mask was tied to the waist sash, and he had a goal in mind. Tomorrow, he'd pretend to go along with Lucio's plan. He still needed some way to interrupt the ritual, which worried him. But come what may, his beloved _will_ live again!

And woe betide anyone who got in his way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Aa per usual, I enjoy long yelling about the arcana, so drop me a yell. 🤣🤣🤣


End file.
